Across the Pond
by EyerishEyes
Summary: Sara and Grissom and a trip to London. My response to a weekly Unbound challenge and the Playing with Fire challenge (American Geeks in London). GS, of course!
1. Default Chapter

Author: EyerishEyes Feedback: tamprollanet.org Disclaimer: Not mine no matter how much I wish they were. Rating: PG-13 (for sexual suggestions) Category: Humor/General Summary: Grissom and Sara and an airport  
  
Author's note: This is just the first chapter to the newest challenge on Playing with Fire. It lended itself so well to this weeks Unbound Challenge that I figured I could combine the two. I know that it is over the 1,000 words but hopefully you will all take pity on me and let it slide. I knew you would. Hope you all enjoy. And before I forget, my last story "Feels Like I've Swallowed A Watermelon" was betad by Ashe and Anne. Forgot to thank them. Thanks you two for giving me the confidence to continue with writing.  
  
Across the Pond  
  
Sara read her journal, ignoring the pouting figure seated opposite her.  
  
An hour into the flight to London, Sara had witnessed Chanda French scold her five year old son, Skylar. Now, during a layover in New York City, Skylar was seated in a chair opposite Sara, swinging his legs, pouting for all he was worth.  
  
She had pretended to ignore him, but he looked so pathetic. His upper lip was pulled back into his lower teeth and his eyebrows were furrowed into a tight line. Every few minutes, a loud audible sigh would issue from his lips and he would look over at Sara to see if she was watching.  
  
She learned to watch. If she didn't, another sigh would follow, louder than the first.  
  
Mom had finally told him to stop pouting, threatening to make him stay right there while everyone else went on to London. After the fifth time, Sara stopped pretending to ignore them and pulled out her journal.  
  
One that Grissom had graciously offered to loan her, especially for the trip.  
  
"Applied Psycodynamics in Forensics Science"  
  
She was enjoying the article, immensely, thinking about how she could get her traveling companion into doing an experiment on the trip. Still, she wondered if Grissom was in his "let's be friendly and flirt mode" or his "I have feelings for you, but I'm scared to do anything about them so I'll push you away mode." If it was the second one, she might as well just leave well enough alone and read the entire trip. But, she could hope he was in the first one, the flirting one.  
  
Although it was his case, he had volunteered her when it looked like their suspect had absconded to London. Devon McAllister was quite possibly Las Vegas' biggest Anglophile. She had been stunned by the sheer number of Union Jacks the team had found when they processed his tiny one-bedroom apartment. That was where they had found the memo that hinted to the possibility that McAllister had tickets to Wimbledon. And so here she sat, waiting to board a jet heading to London.  
  
She was smiling as she felt Grissom slide into the seat next to her.  
  
"Good article?" he said in a soft, sultry voice.  
  
He was in the first mode, the "let's be friendly and flirt." Yeah!  
  
"Oh, I don't know, I might need to experiment and test the theories myself."  
  
"If memory serves me right, you already did that. Remember?"  
  
"Oh yeah, that, thing is, results may vary. Isn't that why you should always do the tests more than once?"  
  
"Not if all of the variables are the same. Are your variables different this time, Sara?" he asked with a straight face.  
  
"Different variables, different results. And I would say that the variables this time are of a much higher quality than the last ones. Much, much higher quality."  
  
"Well, that's good. Let me know the results when you get them, will you. I may want to write a paper on it." Grissom deadpanned.  
  
Sara's mouth opened to say something, but her vocal cords were frozen. What had he just said? Surely he was joking. She continued to stare at him, waiting for him to say something.  
  
Grissom just looked at her and then he cocked his head, grinned that gorgeous half grin, half smirk of his and winked.  
  
"Oh you," Sara said as she playfully punched his arm. "Just for that, no experiments."  
  
Now it was Grissom's turn to be the pouting one.  
  
Sara gave it a minute, decided that she had made him suffer enough and then flashed the smile that he loved so well. "Okay, just one, but only if you behave."  
  
Grissom sat back in the airport chair, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.  
  
Sara turned to look at him, "So, tell me why you're hauling me halfway around the world to look for a suspect when we could have gotten Scotland Yard to find him for us?"  
  
"I needed the help, it's our case and after we find McAllister, we can take a mini vacation," he ticked the reasons off on his fingers.  
  
"A mini vacation, us? Who said I wanted a vacation?"  
  
"I didn't say you wanted one. I said that we could take one."  
  
"And just why do you think I would want to take one with you?" Sara questioned, even though her heart was doing somersaults.  
  
"My superior charm and outstanding intellect. Not to mention, you find me irresistible."  
  
"Talk about an over inflated ego. I'll give you the outstanding intellect, and we'll say decent looking, but I wouldn't go as far as superior charm."  
  
"Ow, you wound me."  
  
"Shakespeare?"  
  
"Naw, Grissom. I hear he is highly quoted among science geeks."  
  
At that, Sara could not contain her laughter any longer and threw her head back in a belly laugh that made her cry. "Don't make me laugh. I just drank a liter of water and if you make me laugh too much, I might just wet my pants."  
  
"At least it would give me an excuse to get you out of them."  
  
"Like you ever needed one. You just had to ask," she retorted.  
  
"Remind me about that after this case."  
  
"I never said I was going to go on vacation after this is over. Did I?"  
  
"No," Grissom looked crestfallen.  
  
"Okay, don't start pouting again. It doesn't become you. Besides, you're making a bad impression on Skylar over there. And before you ask, I learned his name from his mother, who began saying it about every two seconds since we left Vegas."  
  
"I stop if you agree to go on vacation. You need to take some time off."  
  
She knew that, but she wasn't going to let him dictate what she did. "I will if you agree to one thing. I go to London, help you on this case and then go on vacation if you do something for me."  
  
"Anything"  
  
"Anything?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Okay, while on vacation, I get to pick the tourist spots we go to and the first one is Madame Tassaud's Wax Museum. I want a picture of me next to Sean Connery. Might be the only time I ever get close to that butt of his."  
  
"You're kidding me, right."  
  
"Next time, you might want to find out what you're agreeing to before you say 'Anything'"  
  
"Okay, I give. But, Sean Connery?  
  
"I love men in beards." At that, a voice over the airport intercom announced that their flight was boarding. Sara gathered her bag, looked at Grissom and smiled. That was easier than Sara thought it would be.  
  
TBC  
  
. 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 2_

Several hours into the flight and Sara had finally had it.

"Would you please stop doing that?"

"Stop what?" Grissom asked innocently.

"Don't give me that 'I'm innocent' look, Dr. Grissom. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You've been staring at me for the last five minutes. Don't you have something else you could be doing?"

"I like staring at you. You're beautiful, you know." Grissom causally said.

The announcement made Sara momentarily speechless. She decided to let it slide, knowing that Grissom probably meant it as a rhetorical question. Besides, she didn't think of herself as particularly beautiful. "Well, if you need something to do, I have a couple of journals you can read, if you want. Just stop staring at me."

"Alright, spoilsport," Grissom grinned, noticing that Sara had not said anything about his admission. Okay, so she was going to go that route, pretend that he had said nothing. He would have to work at it to make her see the light. And to make her realize that he loved her.

"How much longer before we land?" Sara asked, hoping to distract Grissom. Maybe if she got him on another topic other than his false perception of her beauty, she could feel better.

"Ten hours. Why"

"Just wanted to know so I can prepare myself."

"Need to use the restroom?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

"Nooo, and even if I did, I don't think I need to be telling you."

"Why not, maybe I could help."

"You are incorrigible, you know." Sara said as she went back to reading the travel book that she had brought along. It never hurt to be a little knowledgeable about any new city, or country for that matter, that one might find oneself in. Besides, she was a goner when it came to travel books and history. And this particular book was steeped in outstanding pictures and interesting tidbits.

"Interesting book?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, and maybe if you're a good boy, I'll let you borrow it when I'm done," Sara smiled at him.

"You think that you will be done with it by the time that we land? I wouldn't want to take it from you before you finish."

"It's a long flight. I'm sure that I can manage to get it read before we land. Didn't you bring anything to read or do? You knew it was going to be a long flight."

"I brought you," Grissom offered.

"Ugh, I can't believe you. If you're bored, why don't you get a movie, the county's paying for it, right?"

Grissom picked up the list of available movies and lightly glanced at the titles. "They don't have anything I like," he smiled, aggravating Sara and enjoying it. At least she was paying attention to him and not keeping her head buried in a book or journal the whole flight.

"Give me that," she pulled the list out of Grissom's hands. "They have plenty here...'A Bug's Life'...'Ants'....'Them'...'Arachnophobia'... 'Eight Legged Freaks', don't any of those sound like something you would like, Bugboy?"

"Well, maybe one or two of them sound halfway decent, but I really hate to watch movies by myself when I have such a beautiful date handy." There, he had said it again. Maybe this time she would acknowledge it.

"I'll make you a deal. I watch one movie with you, but only if you do something for me."

"Name it."

"Stop calling me that."

"What? Beautiful?"

"Yeah, that. We both know that I'm not, so why say something you don't mean."

She was putting herself down again, something he really didn't like about her. She was confident in her job, just not in herself. He intended to change that. He was partly to blame, he admitted. Treating her the way he had until recently hadn't done much for her ego and for that he would be forever sorry. He would make it up to her, even if it took a lifetime.

"You see, that's the problem. I say it because I mean it. Now, how about that movie? I'll be nice and let you even pick the one we watch."

So he thought she was beautiful. He had said it once, in the middle of an icy cold skating rink at a crime scene, but hadn't said it since. Until now. What was he up to? She would figure it out, but until then, she'd play along. "Okay, you're on. Let me see that list."

Grissom handed her the list of offered movies, brushing his fingers along her hand as she took it from him, causing her to shiver.

"Cold? Need a blanket?" He smiled at her reaction.

"No, I'm fine." Sara snapped. How did he always manage to make her feel like an awkward teenager? She turned her attention to the list. Her eyes scanned the laminated piece of paper until she came to her choice. She smiled. He wanted to play games. Let him sit through this one. "This one," she pointed to a title on the list.

"You're kidding, right?" Grissom could not believe that she had picked this one.

"Nope, you said I could pick and I pick this one."

"All right, all right." Grissom decided that watching the quintessential chick flick would be pretty nice sitting next to Sara for a couple of hours. He singled for the flight attendant, "Miss, could we please have this movie," he gestured to the list.

"An Affair to Remember?"

"Yes, and can we have two sets of headphones?"

"Certainly, sir."

Minutes later, as soon as the flight attendant had brought the movie and headsets, Grissom and Sara settled into an easy companionship and enjoyed each others company, words not being necessary.

While watching the movie, Grissom had employed the age old maneuver and yawned, putting his arm around Sara's shoulders. Sara felt a tiny thrill inside her, but decided not to say anything, simply enjoying her time with the man she loved. Maybe, this trip wasn't such a bad idea after all.

A movie later, Grissom looked down and found that Sara had fallen asleep, his arm still around her. He would let her sleep, she needed it. Secure with the knowledge that he loved her, Grissom closed his eyes and let sleep over take him.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 3_

"Now arriving at gate 96, British Airways flight 143."

Inspector Charles Beckingham looked up from the morning edition of the London Times to view the gate. He was sent to meet the crime fighting duo from the former colonies.

Scotland Yard wanted to let the Americans know that they would help in almost any way they could in this case, short of arresting the suspect, Devon McAllister.

Hearing the announcement once again, Beckingham placed the paper on the seat next to him, grabbed the poster board sign sitting on the floor and rose to stand where those departing the flight could easily see him.

Dr. Grissom, the sign read. Beckingham held it up and waited.

Grissom and Sara walked down the ramp, weary but laughing over something someone ahead of them had said. A black backpack was slung over Sara's shoulder and Grissom carried his briefcase. They each had a suitcase that they had checked in, but they would be getting those later. For now, they walked as though they had been traveling thousands of miles everyday. Grissom looked up as Sara said something.

"Looks like we have a welcoming committee."

"What?"

Sara pointed out the white poster board sign, "You are Dr. Grissom, I presume?" She smiled.

Grissom just grimaced.

Inspector Beckingham approached the duo, "Dr. Grissom and Ms. Sidle? I'm Inspector Beckingham. Welcome to London. Allow me to extend all curtsies from Scotland Yard and her Majesty. We will offer any help that we may." He extended his hand towards Grissom.

"Please, just Grissom. The city of Las Vegas appreciates all of your help, Inspector. I understand that Sheriff Mobley contacted your superiors earlier and explained our intentions? We just need to question Mr. McAllister concerning a series of robberies."

"And Las Vegas sent you and Ms. Sidle over here for a series of robberies? I would imagine that your citizens would rather be spending the city's monies in a much better fashion. Allow me to help you with those, Ms. Sidle," he stated as Sara reached for her suitcase as it circled the luggage carousal.

"Please, call me Sara. And I can get it, thanks." Sara smiled at him.

Grissom looked annoyed. Was she flirting with Inspector Beckingham? Surely not. Maybe the jetlag was playing games with him.

"Call me Charles, please, Sara. I do hope you enjoy your stay in our lovely city. If you are in need of anything, please, do not hesitate to ring me. Wont you?"

Oh, Sara might not be flirting, but Inspector Charles Beckingham certainly was. And the sooner he got Sara away from the man, the better. Time to get the gentleman back on topic.

"The robberies were of some priceless antiquities that belonged to some of Las Vegas' prominent citizens. And friends of the sheriff."

"Ah, I see. And Mr. McAllister is the prime suspect?"

"Yes, we just need to question him in regards to his whereabouts on several nights."

The conversation continued as the trio exited the baggage claim area and proceeded to exit Heathrow Airport.

"Ah, here we are, taxi," Beckingham gestured for one of the legendary London taxis.

After placing their luggage in the car's trunk, Grissom and Sara entered the taxi and were followed by Beckingham.

The driver looked over his shoulder and asked "Where too, gov?"

"The Ritz on Piccadilly, please."

"Right you are," the driver turned back around and proceeded to battle the London traffic.

"I am afraid that we had a slight bit of a problem with your lodgings. There appears to be several conventions in town this weekend in addition to the All England Lawn tennis tournament, so we've had to situate you at the Ritz. And I'm afraid that there was only one room available. You will have to share but I am assured from the management that as soon as a suite opens up, you will be established there. I am truly sorry for the inconvenience, but with the "Sherlock Holmes" convention and the tennis tournament, all of the hotel rooms have been booked for weeks."

Grissom just looked at Sara and thought to himself, "Share a room with Sara? I hope that it has a couch. As much as I would love to be with her, the first time I sleep with Sara, I don't plan on getting much sleep."

Sara just looked at Grissom and thought, "Share a room with Grissom? Be still my heart. I don't want the first time that I sleep with Grissom to be on a stakeout. Besides, the first time we sleep together, neither one of us is going to be getting much rest."

Beckingham seemed unaware that the two Americans were looking at each other. He continued, "Now, we have 23 kilometers until we get to your hotel so I can brief you on what information we have on Mr. McAllister. From your information, we were able to obtain a copy of his itinerary. It appears that he will be at the All England Lawn Tennis tournament for the better part of the day. That's Wimbledon to you Yanks."

Grissom picked that time to change the focus of his thoughts. They were still on sharing a room with Sara. "Could we by any chance get a pair of tickets to Wimbledon? Possibly in the same area as McAllister?"

"I'm afraid that isn't possible. Wimbledon was sold out last January. Mr. McAllister will be there tomorrow all day, as well. For the four days following, he will be doing the typical tourist things, according to his itinerary. I have a copy of it here for you," the Inspector said as he reached into his suit. "Ah, there we are. He is staying at the same hotel as you, so that might make meeting him a slight bit easier. We informed the management that you were married, as a cover of course, but rest assured that they know that you truly aren't. We didn't want to arouse suspicion in the other guests."

"Of course not," Grissom smirked. Was this guy serious? As much as he cared about Sara, as much as he loved her, he was sure that they weren't at a position in their non-existent relationship to comfortably share a room. Besides, the man was starting to get on his nerves. "That won't be so hard, will it, Babylove?" Grissom placed his hand over Sara's.

His touch made her hand tingle, warming it ever so slightly. "Oh course not, Hunnybun," she smiled. He was going to see that two could play this game he had been playing.

Beckingham just looked from one CSI to the other and shook his head. "You aren't married, are you? Or you two have done undercover work before?"

"Nope," Sara returned, smiling. "We just work well together."

Beckingham seemed to accept the explanation as the taxi stopped in front of the hotel. "Right, here we are. I'll leave you to your assignment. Just ring me at Scotland Yard if you need anything."

"We'll be sure to remember that. Thank you for all of your help, Inspector."

"You're welcome. Ms. Sidle, it has been a pleasure meeting you. If you have some time after you are finished with Mr. McAllister, perhaps I can show you London?"

Sara blushed. Charles Beckingham wasn't that difficult to look at, he was gracious and he did have that accent. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Patrick Stewart or Pierce Brosnan. "Thank you, Charles. I..."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. We have to leave as soon as we question Mr. McAllister." Grissom wanted her away from the man as soon as possible.

"Oh, sorry. I do hope that everything works out for the better. Please let me know if you need any assistance, won't you?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure that we will 'ring' you if we need any help." Grissom finished retrieving the luggage from the trunk. "Sara, are you coming?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 4_

Grissom and Sara approached the receptionist desk. He looked at Sara out of the corner of his eyes. "Do you have a problem with us sharing a room, at least for a while?" he asked with some trepidation. He really didn't know what he would do if she said no.

"Just don't try to talk to me before my first cup of coffee and we should be okay," she smiled.

"Really?"

"Really, I don't see a problem. We are two mature consenting adults who can make this work without letting anything get in the way," she told him, not wanting to say feelings, even though that is what she meant.

"Okay. You know what; we could do the over-under method. You sleep under the covers and I'll sleep over the covers. Deal?"

"Deal," she grabbed his hand as though to shake it, but held on to it just a little bit longer. "We're supposed to be married, remember, dear," as she looked at the receptionist.

Grissom looked at the receptionist as well. He brought Sara's hand up to his mouth, gave it a feather light kiss and thought to himself, "In for a penny, in for a pound."

"Dr. and Mrs. Grissom to check in," Grissom informed the pimply, red-haired youthful man behind the desk. The poor kid couldn't have been over 20 years old. His name tag read "William" but Grissom thought he probably was only called that by his mother and then only when she was mad.

"Welcome to the Ritz, Dr. Grissom. We hope you and your wife will find your stay here enjoyable. If you'll just sign this card, I'll have John the bellboy take your bags to your room."

"Thank you, I'm sure that Mrs. Grissom and I will enjoy ourselves very much. It's our honeymoon, you know." Grissom had to narrowly dodge the elbow that was speeding towards his ribs. "You know, we have a friend staying here as well. Maybe you can tell me what room he is in. A Mr. Devon McAllister?"

"Certainly sir. Let me see," William looked towards the computer behind the desk. "Here it is, Mr. McAllister is in room 214. Should I ring him for you and see if he is in?"

"No, I'd like to surprise him. This is just between us, okay?" Grissom stated as he handed the young man a 10-pound note.

"Yes sir," William returned with enthusiasm. "Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"Could you have room service send up a pot of tea and some sandwiches. We've just flown in from the United States and would like to relax. You know, don't want to be disturbed for awhile." Grissom gave the young man a sly wink.

William blushed at the suggestion that Grissom was giving but understood it. That Mrs. Grissom was a beautiful one. "Anything you need, you ask for William. I'll make sure that room service gets that to you and that you aren't bothered. You are in room 312," he said as he handed Grissom the key.

"Thank you William," Grissom said as he took the key from William, grabbed Sara's hand again and proceeded towards the elevator.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 5_

As soon as they were in the elevator, Sara let loose a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush. Grissom just looked at her with his mouth open.

"How could you, Gil Grissom? Making him think that we were here for our 'honeymoon'! I could have killed you with all of your suggestive remarks," Sara bit off. She was furious. In all of the time that her and Grissom had been flirting, it had been something just between the two of them. Now, here he was, bringing in a third party. And a hotel receptionist at that.

"What would you have me do, Sara? Tell him that you and I just friends and that we are on a stakeout. He would really believe that one," Grissom said sarcastically. "He would have probably heard 'friends' but thought lovers. You know how young people think. Besides, he was told that we were married. Why not let him believe that we are on our honeymoon and don't want to be bothered. At least that way, we can figure out how we are going to get to question McAllister."

"God, I hate it when you are so damn logical," Sara retorted. "So, we're on our honeymoon? Did I at least have a nice wedding?"

Grissom laughed. "Of course, the best of everything. You deserve it."

"And don't you forget it, mister," Sara admonished. She suddenly felt the need to be a little more serious. "Grissom, I know that you told me before why you brought me along, but remind me okay."

"I told you, I needed help, it's our case and we can take a mini-vacation after we question McAllister."

"Now, tell me the real reason. You could have brought Nicky, Warrick or even Catherine. I'm sure that she could have gotten a sitter for Lindsey. And why did you get so jealous of Beckingham?"

"I didn't want to bring them. I want you," he mumbled, low enough that she had to strain to hear him.

"What was that?" She wasn't sure she had heard him right.

"I want you. I want to know if it's too late?" Grissom asked, alluding to the infamous dinner refusal. He kept his eyes lowered, not wanting to see her eyes in fear that he wouldn't like what he saw there.

Sara was left speechless. She had wondered when or if he was ever going to do anything about the sexual tension between them. Sara brought her hand up to cup his cheek in the palm of her hand. She had touched him like this once before, brushing off nonexistent chalk. This time, she didn't make excuses. "Gil," Sara eased his head up so that she was looking into the sexiest blue eyes she knew of in the world, "you could never be too late."

Grissom sighed with relief. He brought his hand up to cover the one on his cheek and turned his head slightly. His lips brushed over the palm of her hand like the breath from a whisper.

Sara shivered. Her body tingled with his touch. It yearned for something more, but her mind knew that they weren't ready for that yet. Later, when the time was right, her body would be satisfied.

"Can we start again? Be friends and see what goes from there? Think of this as an extended first date?" Grissom questioned.

"If this is your idea of a first date, I would hate to imagine what your second one is like," Sara teased.

Grissom's eyes smoldered as he became serious. "Can I kiss you?"

"I thought you would never ask," Sara replied as Grissom's face came closer.

Their lips met and everything around them was forgotten. The case, the elevator, even the jetlag that they were both suffering from. Nothing existed except the two of them. At least until the elevator stopped with the ring of a hidden bell and the doors opened up to reveal an elderly couple waiting.

"Oops, sorry, kinda got carried away." Grissom said with a hint of embarrassment.

"No need, love, reminds me of when we were young and in love," the silver haired woman smiled as she looked at the man beside her. "Go on dears, we can get the next lift," she said as she pushed the elevator button.

Grissom just smiled and looked at Sara.

Sara just smiled and looked at Grissom.

They both broke out laughing at the same time as the doors closed on them.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 6_

Grissom finished looking at the hotel information packet as Sara stepped out of the bathroom. "Feel better?" he questioned without looking up.

Maybe it was a good thing that he wasn't looking. Sara had exited from taking a shower wearing an antique Harvard sweatshirt and a pair of cut-off shorts and nothing else. Toweling her hair, she walked over to the bed and sat on the burgundy bed spread, cross-legged.

"Much better," came the muffled reply.

"What was that?" Grissom looked up and nearly lost his breath. Even obscured by a towel, she was beautiful.

Sara finished drying her hair and removed the towel. "I said 'much better', I feel much better. A hot shower is just what I needed," she informed him. She looked at him, staring at her. He had the look of a starving man looking at a juicy steak. "What, do I have something on my face?"

"Um, no. I just didn't hear you clearly, that's all," Grissom replied. He was trying hard to keep his libido in check. He started reciting baseball statistics in his head. 'Babe Ruth, lifetime earned run average…'

Grissom's dilemma was lost on the woman sitting on the bed, partially dressed. Sara noticed the informational packet in his hands. "So, did you figure out a game plan? How are we going to get McAllister so that we can question him?"

"Huh?"

He's flustered, Sara thought. Good. "McAllister, questioning, us. Any of that ring a bell?"

"Yeah, I thought that we would go to dinner at Criterion Brasserie. Seems our old friend Mr. McAllister has reservations there. That nice kid at the reception desk called while you were using up all of the hot water and let it slip that McAllister had just had the concierge make dinner plans for him."

"Nice kid," Sara said sarcastically, "more like the nice 10 pound note you gave him. And I did not use up all of the hot water."

"It worked, didn't it? And yes you did."

"Yeah, bribing children. What next, Grissom, gonna steal a lollipop from some baby?" Sara teased.

"No, just going to corrupt a certain young lady I know. You know, take her out for dinner, lavish her with flavored carbonated water and keep her out until the wee hours of the morning."

"Really, what makes you think I want to go to dinner? Maybe I just want to stay in."

"In's good." Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but in won't get us closer to McAllister. Come on, you'll enjoy it. Criterion Brasserie is an excellent French restaurant, the county's paying, they offer vegetarian dishes and it's on Piccadilly Circle. It's kinda like Times Square."

"How do you know so much about London?"

"I was invited to speak before the Royal Entomological Society about 10 years ago, after that summer at Harvard. Spent about a week here."

"So you're an old hand at this tourist thing. Guess I can't beat an offer like this."

"Great, why don't you get dressed and I'll have the concierge make us reservations. "

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute."

Sara got up of the bed, grabbed the towel and then headed towards the bathroom. She stopped just at the barrier, turned her head, looking over her shoulder, and said "Want to look good for my date, huh, Sherlock."

"You always look good, Dr. Watson."

"Dr. Watson? Wasn't he a little big in the belly?"

"You're the one that started with the Sherlock Holmes analogy. You've always reminded me more of Emma Peel."

"The Avengers?"

"Yeah, always thought she filled out that leather suit rather nicely."

"Oh, you are such a…..man!" Sara blurted out and shut the bathroom door with a loud slam.

"Yes, definitely Emma Peel." Grissom smiled as he picked up the phone and made a call.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 7_

Dinner turned out to be two-sided. On one side, McAllister never showed up but on the other side, it was the perfect dinner for the both of them. This was the dinner that Grissom had turned down, the one that he kicked himself over night after night. He was finally getting the chance to have a nice romantic dinner with the woman he cared about, the woman he had feelings for. And since he was being truthful with himself, the woman he loved.

Riding up in the elevator following dinner, Grissom asked "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes."

"I'm glad," Grissom said. As they walked to their room, he decided to ask one of the questions that had been on his mind lately. "Sara, why do you want to be with me?"

"Grissom, why do you want to know?" Sara admonished him. She knew that he was a little insecure about his desirability but then again, so was she.

"Humor me, okay. Tell me why you want to be with me."

"Okay," she whispered. "You're intelligent with out being snobby about it. You're interesting. You and I have some of the same interests, besides work. Without making you sound like you're a dog, you're trustworthy, loyal, dependable, a hard worker, and friendly to an extent. And if tonight's dinner was any indication of the softer side of Grissom, I would say that you were extremely romantic as well."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Grissom, you have so much to offer someone. Why don't you think that you and I should be together?" she asked, her heart in her throat.

"Sara," he whispered in the sultry voice of his, "I'm your supervisor, I almost lost my hearing and I'm almost 20 years older than you are. You deserve someone better than me."

She could listen to that voice for a lifetime and if she had any say in the matter, she just might. "Grissom, I don't want 'someone' better. There is no one better. The only person I want is you. I know that you're my supervisor and that might matter to you, but I think that we're both mature enough to leave our personal lives outside the office. So that problem is moot. Second, I know that Otosclerosis runs in your family and that you almost lost your hearing. The important thing is almost. You didn't and I wouldn't have cared if you did. It's not your hearing I'm attracted to you. It's the whole package."

"Are you finished?" Grissom looked thoroughly chastised.

"No, my parents are 15 years apart in age and it never bothered them. My mother always said 'Age is a matter of the mind, if you don't mind, it doesn't matter.' Grissom, I don't mind. In fact, you being older than me makes you that much more attractive. And finally, I think you are sexy as hell. So does that answer your questions?"

"Yeah, makes me almost sorry I asked."

"We needed to get the things out in the open. Might as well have been tonight. Just remember what I said, okay?"

"Okay. Here we are, home again. I think I could sleep for the next 24 hours. I'm beat." Grissom said as he put the key in the lock and opened the door. Being the gentleman (and romantic) that he was, he held the door open for Sara.

"Don't I even get a good night kiss?"

Grissom let out an audible sigh. "Honey, if I thought I could stop with just a good night kiss, I would. I don't know if I can or if I would want to."

Sara's eyes widened. "Oh," was all she could say.

Grissom lifted his hand to gently cup her cheek. "I promise you that the night when we get to the point where I know that we're ready for me not to stop, you'll get more than just a good night kiss. I'll more than make up for missing this one, okay." He rubbed his thumb along her jaw line.

Sara swallowed the lump that had risen into her throat. "Okay," she whispered.

"Good, now be a good girl and crawl into bed before I ravish your beautiful body."

Sara just laughed as she walked through the entrance and Grissom followed, closing the door silently behind him.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 8_

Sara woke up the next morning with an arm around her waist and a face nuzzled in her hair. She could get used to this.

"Grissom, you awake?"

"Humph," was the muffled reply.

"What?"

Grissom lifted his head. "I said, yes."

"Oh, sorry. It's just that you're holding me and I really need to get up."

Realization hit him and he quickly released his hold on her. Sara jumped up out of bed and raced to the bathroom. The door shut as Grissom rolled over on his back. 'Okay, old man, just a normal day. One that entails you waking up next to Sara and taking her sightseeing around London and if you can swing it, another romantic dinner. Yep, just a normal day.' Grissom closed his eyes and rested his hands on his chest, almost falling back to sleep.

"Sorry," Sara said as she exited the lavatory. "Always have to go first thing in the morning. So, what's on the agenda for today?"

"Huh, sorry, almost fell asleep," Grissom said with a start. "Well," he continued as he sat up, "I thought that we could take in some of the sites while McAllister is at the tournament. If William is on the desk this morning, I'll ask him to keep an eye on McAllister's reservations and let us know."

"Sounds like a winner."

"So, do you have anywhere in particular you would like to go? I mean, besides Madame Tussaud's?"

"You remembered. Well, according to the travel book I was reading before I was rudely interrupted, I think that the Sherlock Holmes museum is right around the corner from Madame Tussaud's and Sean Connery's butt. That might be cool to look at, considering who we are."

"Then we might have to go to the Tower of London as well. Did you know that they had a mystery there that has never been solved?"

"The nephews of Richard III?"

"Exactly. And the crown jewels are there too."

"Cool. Anything you want to do while we're at it?"

"Now that you ask, the Globe Theater has been rebuilt since the last time I was here. Would you mind if we caught a play today? I hope you don't mind Shakespeare."

"Whatever thou dost wish," Sara smiled and curtsied towards him. "I'll just go get ready and we can be off."

Sara walked towards the bathroom, stopping to pick up a change of clothes and her toiletries. "Just don't use up all of the hot water."

"You know, if you are so worried about hot water, you could always share," Sara smiled and winked. Before she could hear his reply, the bathroom door shut.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 9_

"So, what did you think?" Grissom questioned as the pair walked out of the Globe Theater. They had toured the exhibit in the Underglobe, the basement to the theater, and then had settled in to watch a performance of 'Much Ado about Nothing'."

"I liked it. Reminded me of someone I know," she hinted.

"What? Me?" Grissom asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, having to have other people push you to acknowledge your feelings. Yup, Benedict thy name is Grissom," she laughed.

"I wouldn't say much, Beatrice."

"Ugh, you." Sara lightly cuffed him on the shoulder. She decided to show him that she had actually enjoyed the play and had even paid attention.

"Friendship is constant in all other things save in the office and affairs of love; Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues; let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent," she quoted.

Grissom returned with "Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you."

"Much Ado?" Sara asked

"Nope, 'As You Like It', another good comedy of the Bard's. Too bad that we aren't going to be here another week. I saw that it was on the bill for next week."

"Sorry, maybe we can keep an eye out for it in Vegas. Sometimes the university puts on a Billy play or two."

"Since when have you been interested in Shakespeare?"

"Since I met you," she mirrored his words from a previous time.

Grissom just smiled. Here he was, walking along the streets of London, hand in hand with a beautiful woman and enjoying life. He didn't forget that he was technically working on a case, but if he could get a little bit out of it, all the better.

"Grissom, are you hungry? I'm starved. Let's try and see if we can find somewhere to grab a bite."

"If memory serves me, I think that there is a pub around here called The George Inn. Serves some pretty good pub grub, if you're game."

"Sounds good to me. I could eat just about anything, as long as it was veggies," she laughed.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 10_

"What can I get you lovelies," the waitress asked with a thick Cockney accent.

"I'll have the Ploughman's lunch, please," Sara ordered. "And a bottle of water."

"And I'll have Bangers and Mash, with the blood pudding. And a pint of Guinness, please. Thank you." Grissom watched Sara make a face at his selection. "What, I happen to enjoy blood pudding. It's very tasty."

"Blood pudding. Don't you see enough of that at work?" Sara quipped.

"Nope. Besides, didn't your mother ever tell you not to knock it if you've never tried it?"

"Naw, she just would say something about how the cosmic flavors of the universe would eventually come together, or something like that."

"What?"

"Mom is a hippie. Dad too. She is always saying something about karma or cosmic something or others. I've learned to just look at her with an intent look on my face and nod every so often. Works every time."

"That explains a lot."

"Does not!"

"Does too, now eat your lunch and we'll go to the wax museum."

"Alright, Sean Connery here I come," Sara said as she ate her cheese and bread.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 11_

"They're so life like," Sara noted as they walked through the area known as Premiere Night. "Oh my gosh, there he is. Grissom, take my picture with him, please," Sara begged. "My mother is never going to believe this. She absolutely loves him. Says he looks just like my father. Only problem is, my father looks more like Santa Claus than Sean Connery."

"Then maybe we should take a picture of you next to Father Christmas," Grissom deadpanned.

"Are you just a little jealous?"

"Well, my date is practically begging me to take a picture of her beside a wax figure of Sean Connery. And she is almost drooling over what could be construed as a large candle."

"You know that you are the only man I see. Connery could never hold a candle to you. No pun intended," she snickered.

"None taken. Now smile for the camera, but try not to look like you could just eat up the lump of wax next to you."

"Just take the picture, Grissom."

"Say cheese."

"Cheese."

"Got it, but I don't know how well it turned out, old Sean there had his eyes closed."

"Oh you, you're some kind a comedian when you get away from the lab, you know," Sara remarked. "I like this side of you. You should smile more."

"I will, I promise. I didn't have much to smile about before, but now, you'll be blinded by my pearly whites."

"Funny man. Anyone you want to have your picture taken with?"

"Brittany Spears."

"No way, not with that little tramp," Sara retorted.

"Who's a little jealous now? Don't worry, you're the only woman I see," he replied, using the same phrase that Sara had used.

"Good answer. I do have to get a picture of Hillary Duff for Lindsey. I told her that if I got the chance, I would. And we have to get her a t-shirt or something. Told her that I would bring her something back."

"You too. The kid is going to make out like a bandit because I told her the same thing."

"Good, let's go and shop," Sara said as they exited the museum.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N**: I don't own them, but in a perfect world, I would. Plot and subordinate characters are mine, the rest belong to Anthony Zuicker and company. Special thanks to my husband and my beta readers, Ash and Anne. Without those three, I would never have the courage to continue writing.

_Chapter 12_

William was behind the counter at the reception desk when Grissom and Sara got back from a full day of sightseeing. They had walked and talked and gotten to know each other all over again. And seeing the sights of London was just what the doctor had ordered.

"Ah, Dr. Grissom, how was your day? Enjoying the city, I hope."

"We had an excellent day, William, thank you for asking. Any messages for us?"

"I'm afraid not, but I did want to tell you that Mr. McAllister is having tea right now in the dining area if you still wanted to see him. I took the liberty of making reservations in your name. They're required."

Here was their chance to wrap up the case. Grissom didn't know if he actually wanted this case to end. He wanted just a little more time with Sara away from Vegas, away from the worries and politics of the office. But, he was Grissom after all and he would always do what was right. "Thank you, William. Could you see that our bags are taken up to our room? Sara, honey, would you care for a cup of tea?"

"That would be nice," Sara responded, handing over her bags to the bellhop and following Grissom into the Ritz's dining area. It was a good thing that both of them had dressed nicely but comfortably for the day. A diningroom that required reservations for teatime was not somewhere you wore jeans and a tanktop.

Grissom saw McAllister immediately, spotting the short, rather plump balding man in the crowd of the dining room. "Devon McAllister?"

Devon McAllister held the piece of Eccles cake at his mouth, "Yes that's me. What can I do for you?"

"I'm Gil Grissom of the Las Vegas crime lab and this is Ms. Sidle. We just wanted to ask you a couple of questions. You don't mind, do you?"

"Las Vegas? Why are you all the way over here? Do you even have jurisdiction here? Doesn't matter," he shook his head, "ask away if you must."

Sara couldn't get over the fake British accent the man was using. She had to fight hard not to laugh as she asked her questions. "Are you aquatinted with a Charles Sneville?"

"Charlie? Yes, as a matter of fact, he and his wife are good friends of mine. Why?"

"Mr. Sneville reported a priceless Henry Moore sculpture as missing from his home. Says that you were one of the last people there. Do you remember where you were on June 2nd of this year?"

"Yes, I do, Ms. Snidle was it? I was at a party that Charles and Mary were giving. I left early and went to another one across town. I believe that Webster Kensington and his partner David were hosting it at the Tangiers. I'm sure that you can get the guest list from Webster. Now, if you will excuse me, I'd like to finish my tea before I head back to the tennis tournament." And with that, McAllister stuffed the piece of cake in his mouth and turned away from the duo.

Sara was getting angry. She hated it when someone got her name wrong and it sounded like McAllister had done it on purpose, just to be condescending. "Actually, its Ms. Sidle and we could get the guest list, but we like chasing pompous bald men down to question them," she spit out as she turned on her heels and left the dining area.

"Well, I never," McAllister said, indignant. "Mr. Grissom, you really should speak with you subordinate about her manners."

"You should really take your own advice, Mr. McAllister. Sorry to inconvenience you, have a lovely time in London," Grissom replied and turned and left the dining area, walking fast to catch up to Sara.

He caught her just as the elevator doors were opening. "Sara, don't let a little man like him get you angry. He's just compensating. You know, for the baldness and everything," Grissom smiled at her.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. You look like you could use a hug."

"Never say that I was one to pass up a free feel," Sara quipped as she wrapped her arms around Grissom. A funny feeling came over her as she placed her head on his chest. She thought her heart was beating a million miles a minute until she realized that Grissom's cellphone was ringing. "Is that a cellphone in your pocket or are you just happy to be holding me?"

"My cellphone and I am happy to be holding you. Grissom," he said as he opened his cellphone to take the call. "Hello, Catherine. Yes, we actually just finished speaking with Mr. McAllister. They did? I see. Okay, we'll be on the flight tomorrow evening. Everything okay out there? Greg hasn't burned the lab down yet, has he? Good, we'll see you then, oh, and tell Lindsey that I have a great gift for her. I'll talk to you later, Bye."

"Let me guess, that was Catherine."

"Yup. Seems our friendly," he said with sarcasm, "Mr. McAllister was telling the truth. Las Vegas PD just found the missing items in a storage locker belonging to Mary Sneville. She was stealing things from under her husband's nose and friends to support an illicit affair and a nasty drug habit."

"I guess that means that it's back the grind for us."

"Afraid so. Sara," Grissom turned serious, "promise me something. When we get back to Vegas, we don't go back to the way things were. We go forward."

"Forward, as in see what develops? I'm willing if you are."

"I am. I've wasted enough time fighting my feelings for you. It's time to start living."

"Okay. Now, aren't agreements like this one usually sealed with a handshake or something?"

"Or something," he whispered as his head slowly approached hers. His eyes were locked on hers.

"So, do you want to shake hands?" she whispered, her eyes looking into his crystal blue ones.

"Nope," he said as his lips captured hers in a kiss that was whisper soft to begin with. His feelings soon made their way to the surface as he deepened the kiss.

Sara tilted her head so that she could deepen the kiss as well.

Nothing existed for them except each other as their bottled passions quickly rose to the surface.

And suddenly were extinguished when the elevator doors opened to reveal the same elderly couple that had seen them nights before.

"Oh my," the tiny silver haired woman exclaimed, "Don't you two have a room?" She and her husband laughed. "Well, go on, we can wait, again."

The elevator doors slowly slide to a close as Grissom and Sara looked at each other and laughed.

THE END

**A/N: **Please read and review. I appreciate any and all reviewers, even flames. I could use something to warm up the townhouse.


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